


Always Summer

by mytimehaspassed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimehaspassed/pseuds/mytimehaspassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in the dust and dirt of Arizona, meet with soil under their fingernails, sulfur on their hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Summer

**ALWAYS SUMMER**  
SUPERNATURAL  
Sam/Dean; Castiel/Dean  
 **WARNINGS** : post-apocalypse AU; evil!Sam; character death

  
They meet in the dust and dirt of Arizona, meet with soil under their fingernails, sulfur on their hands. They have Bibles, they have holy water, but the ghosts there are vicious and don't leave without drawing blood. Dean may have broken some ribs, rubs his chest with bloody fingers, takes healthy swallows of Jack straight from the bottle. Sam has shallow cuts, but nothing more, nothing Papa's salve couldn't fix, his face torn, his eyes bright against the wind.

There's been a war, there's been days where they haven't spoken, days where Dean can't remember his own name, tucked inside those rundown motel rooms with nothing but angels for company, nothing but the whispers that fold themselves around him. Days where Sam forgets where he came from, a family of hunters that never asked for this life, a family of hunters that always did the right thing.

Dean never forgets Sam's phone number, but can never bring himself to call. Sam calls, but can't say anything, won't say anything, won't tell him how much he misses him. How much he's lost. They both remember what's unspoken, what's never been said: the lives they'll save by being apart, the great destiny that's been written for Dean, that's been broadcast on Angel Radio ever since he found God. Sam's fall from grace, Sam's fate hissed from the mouths of every demon Dean's ever met, even the ones like Ruby, who know but don't want to. Who know, but can't face it, Sam's sweet faced innocence, the naïveté that runs through his veins.

Sam helps him from time to time, sends him locations like their father used to: texting coordinates of certain demons, certain apparitions, but only the really nasty ones, the competition. He does his part for Dean's side, but so much more for his own. Dean never sees Sam like what he's meant to be, but he can imagine, he can guess, with the stories Castiel tells him late at night, fingers dancing across Dean's skin, fingers slipping below belt loops, fingers that tug down zippers. Castiel's never touched Dean without Sam's name on his lips. Dean's never complained.

In Arizona, Dean touches Sam.

But Dean hasn't touched Sam since he chose his side, since he left, packing up his clothes, packing up his life, leaving Dean and all the memories of their family behind. Sam doesn't say their father's name, but he doesn't have to, because Dean always will, will never forget, will never lose his place. Dean knows that Sam knows who made them like this, who taught them how to become who they are.

In Arizona, Dean brushes his knuckles across a cut on Sam's cheek and Sam closes his eyes, breathes out against the light touch, breathes out and clenches his jaw, won't look at Dean, won't let himself see the shame in Dean's eyes. Sam knows this is where it ends, the last time he sees his brother, the last time he can touch him and taste him, because the demons had been prophesizing for days. The demons had been laughing and laughing.

Dean says, "What?"

He doesn't know about this, couldn't see the reluctance in Castiel's eyes when he let him go to Arizona, when he let him meet Sam in the desert.

Sam says, "Nothing." He wants to say everything he's been afraid to since he left, everything that starts with I miss you and ends with I love you. Everything in between. Sam's hands shake and shake. Sam's eyes won't stop tearing up.

Dean says, "Sam," and Sam guesses that's the last time Dean will say his name, but he can't hear it now, won't let himself feel that hitch of sorrow, that stroke of lost time.

Sam presses his mouth to Dean's, fingers on the back of his neck and the fine hairs there, hand pushing him close, closer than he could go. Sam wants this to last, but knows that it won't. Sam wants this to be a first of everything for them, a first of soft chastity, where they can forget this life, forget their calling and the things that separate them, the demons, the angels. Sam can take Dean away and hide where the war hasn't erupted, where there are no sides, no creatures whispering to them at night. A first of soft purity, where Dean isn't good, where Sam isn't evil. They can just be, they can just live.

Dean opens his mouth to Sam's, raises his hands to Sam's chest, but doesn't push away, doesn't say no. They aren't warriors here, they aren't even brothers. Dean swallows and Sam tries not to cry against Dean's lips. Sam knows this is the last of everything, this is what he'll remember when he leaves Arizona, when he stops holding the demons in check, when he follows them into battle.

Sam breaks the kiss and says, "Please don't stay here." It's futile, nothing ever goes according to plan, nothing ever works out for him, for Dean.

Sam says, "Just leave, Dean. Just go." They won't escape destiny, no matter how hard they fight.

Dean acts like he doesn't hear him. "I wish it was always like this," he says.

Sam doesn't cry, but he wants to. He wants to tear Hell apart from the inside just to save his brother, just to keep him safe. Sam says, "Please, Dean. Please." Like he can try, like he can work things out.

Dean presses one more kiss to Sam's lips and shades his eyes against the sun that beats down on them. The wind kicks up trails of dust, picks up the charred bones and salt, the holy water drying fast in the heat. "I wish it was always summer," he says.

Dean dies the next morning. He'll be alone, but he'll be left with his hand reaching out for something, for somebody. Castiel will be sent back to Heaven, his vessel dying somewhere on the soft ground, and Sam will slaughter as many people in town as he can find, anybody who might have glimpsed Dean, anybody who could have seen him smile for the last time. Laughed, cried. Sam will remember his brother like he remembers his father, his mother, consumed by the supernatural, swallowed up by the magic he creates, his fingers stained with dirt and blood.

And when he dies, he'll feel Dean's hand in his for one last time, a kiss of palm to palm before he's gone, before he forgets everything.


End file.
